


Harry Potter and the Castle of Phantoms

by RomaInvictus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Child Abuse, Crying, Dreams and Nightmares, Harry needs someone to calm him tf down, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Insomnia, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Touch-Starved, both full of seamen, both not quite ship shape because they are damaged, hahaha gettit, oops maybe it is a certain Slytherin, the results may shock you, two ships passing in the night
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-30 05:53:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15090401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RomaInvictus/pseuds/RomaInvictus
Summary: His bare feet didn't feel the cold as he pattered through the empty stone halls.  As he walked aimlessly, he bowed his head staring directly at the floor in front of him.  Harry loved walking at this time.  It was only him and the echoes of the fallen from the war.  Tears continued to trickle down his cheek as he sped up his pace.  He would walk himself tired. At least, that was the plan.What wasn’t the plan, however, was waking up in a blanket burrito staring into the confused eyes of Draco Malfoy.  That was quite the shock, and Harry only got a small thrill from the fact that it meant he got sleep. True, he collapsed on the floor in front of the Slytherin doorway, but it was sleep nonetheless.  From the fact that it seemed to be not quite dawn, and there were dark circles under Draco’s clouded eyes,  Gryffindor was not the only house having problems fending off their monsters at night.





	1. The Boy in the Blanket

Harry didn’t sleep well.  Usually he was able to keep his feelings under control, however he knew that he woke up the Gryffindor boys often.  

 

During the many years that they knew Harry, at first they politely ignored his whimpers, shouts, and cries.  As the years dragged on, and the dreams got worse, they were more vocal. Sometimes mid-nightmare the scene abruptly melted away once Harry felt a pillow thrown on his face and he would hear the muttered curses of Seamus.  Other times, a touch on the arm would wake him from the horrors of the unconscious world, and he would find the kind eyes of Neville studying him cautiously. Gasping for air, Harry would sit up drenched in sweat at times to find Ron quietly awake, concern written across his face.  The moonlight wouldn’t be enough to see much, but the creases of his brow were nestled under hair that in the darkness lost its ruddy nature.

 

They were in their 8th year of Hogwarts, and so although Death Eaters plagued all of their dreams, the real threat had passed.  There was a bit of selfish satisfaction that Harry was not the only one screaming awake in the wee hours of the morning. That selfish flash only would last a few seconds before being replaced with more permanent emotions, such as sympathy, sadness, and concern for the terrified boy.

 

On this particular night, the dream wasn’t about Voldemort, but about his childhood.  Starting awake, he quickly looked around out of habit to make sure the other boys were asleep.  Harry felt like he wanted to crawl into a crack in the wall when he knew another boy was kept awake because of him.  Guilt stabbed at him, and anger throbbed through every bone. The time he had dreamed about was a particularly nasty incident taking place during a Christmas Party.  Closing his eyes, he remembered the meaty hands of his Uncle Vernon poking into his face and threatening him like he did on so many occasions. 

 

_ “Remember, boy, if you make any sort of noise or cause any sort of funny business, I won’t…” _

 

_ “You won’t feed me for a week, I know…” _

 

Harry mouthed his response, letting his breath out in gasps and frightened sobs.  Grabbing the blanket around him, he couldn’t stop thinking about what happened next…

 

_ The Dursleys had their dreadful family over, and Harry wasn’t allowed outside of the cupboard.  He smelled all sorts of great food, making his mouth water. Potatoes, sausages, and all sorts of sweets.  What drove Harry wild enough to begin crying was the smell of ham. At this point Harry didn’t remember when his last meal was, and it was quite possible the Dursleys forgot to feed him for a few days.  Harry had been so afraid of being punished that he had been quiet enough for Vernon to forget about him. _

 

Tears began to prickle Harry’s eyes as he remembered the stabbing hunger pains of the nine year old in the cupboard.  Each breath was ragged, and Harry began tossing. The grip on his blankets only tightened as the memory engulfed him further.  

 

_ No, I am over this.  I was the chosen one.  I am the savior of the Wizarding World.  I am over this… _

 

Harry had to snap out of this or he knew he wouldn’t get sleep tonight at all.

 

_ I’m over this… _

 

Reliving was so painful...

 

_ I’m… _

 

No he wouldn’t go back there...

 

_ I’m sorry!   _

 

Underneath the covers, Harry shivered as the cries of nine-year-old him rang through his skull.  Tears flowed from his eyes as he sank back into the memory…

 

_ “Please, Uncle Vernon!  I didn’t do it! I’m sorry!  Please don’t leave me out here!”  The small boy with shaggy black hair and oversized grey clothes seemed to shrink in front of the man. _

 

_ Vernon only sneered, the black hair in his fist.  His breath came out as a puff of fog, and he stood out in the backyard hunched over the small woodshed.  Harry couldn’t see his face because of the shadow of the lanturn on the back porch, but he doubted there was any form of mercy.  Tears flowed down his cheeks as he begged his uncle anyway. His head stung where the hands had him in a deathgrip.  _

 

_ In a booming voice, Vernon shouted back. _

 

_ “That is enough!  You are a freak and a worthless mouth not worth feeding!  How dare you laze about our house and steal enough food to become fat, and then on Christmas Night you steal our ham?!  Your spite knows no bounds! You were not invited to our party, because you are not family! Just a mistake that bumbled its way onto our driveway!” _

 

_ At every sentence, little Harry received a shake, jerking his head and making him squeak. _

 

_ “I didn’t steal the ham!  Please stop, you are hurting me!  I was just so hungry… and it just appeared in my lap!  It was like magic!” _

 

_ At the boy’s last words, the man uttered a grunt and tossed the boy into the woodshed.  With a small noise more associated with that of a wounded animal, Harry fell on the firewood stored within.  His glasses were nowhere to be seen, and as the boy looked up, he only saw a blurry shadow that was the monstrous man in front of him.   _

 

_ Angrily, Vernon spit out his next words slowly, _

 

_ “There… Is… No… Such… Thing… As… MAGIC!” _

 

_ At his last word, Vernon slammed the door closed, and Harry heard a metal lock click.  Sobbing, he shivered as the cold began seeping into him. Shifting on the wood below him, Harry tried to find his glasses.  It was difficult considering that his bony fingers were numb with cold, but eventually he found them. Putting them on did not help much, considering the darkness that engulfed him.  The boy hugged his knees and began to wait. It would be a long, cold night. _

 

Harry shivered again, suddenly feeling freezing.  His head hurt, and his eyes stung from crying for so long.  Tossing and turning more, he realized he would not find peace.  Birds singing in the distance notified him to the fact that he wouldn’t have a fitful night of sleep.  With a simple spell, he checked the time. 3:55. Great.

 

Adrenaline prickled through him in every nerve and fiber, and Harry was not calm enough to stay in bed for another few hours.  With a rustle of covers, he was up, dressed in 2 of Molly Weasley's sweaters (even though it was the beginning of September) and with his covers draped around him.  

 

His bare feet didn't feel the cold as he pattered through the empty stone halls.  As he walked aimlessly, he bowed his head staring directly at the floor in front of him.  Harry loved walking at this time.  It was only him and the echoes of the fallen from the war.  He could almost hear Tonks' laugh and Hedwig's scree.  Lupin's steady supportive hand touched his shoulder as Sirius messed up his head paternally.  Tears continued to trickle down his cheek as he sped up his pace.  He would walk himself tired. At least, that was the plan.

 

What wasn’t the plan, however, was waking up in a blanket burrito staring into the confused eyes of Draco Malfoy.  That was quite the shock, and Harry only got a small thrill from the fact that it meant he got sleep. True, he collapsed on the floor in front of the Slytherin doorway, but it was sleep nonetheless.  From the fact that it seemed to be not quite dawn, and there were dark circles under Draco’s clouded eyes, Gryffindor was not the only house having problems fending off their monsters at night.


	2. The Boy in the Silk Pajamas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco has a Wild Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I think I will post these chapters every other week on Sunday! I will continue alternating perspectives, too.  
> Stay tuned for more, and thank you so much for reading/commenting/etc.! Please let me know what you think! I hope you enjoy! :D

_Draco was drowning.  Silver bubbles escaped his lips as he felt the lungs under his ribs scream for air.  The black liquid he was thrashing in was cold as death, and Draco reached up desperately to touch the slimy surface.  Above the water was a figure that the drowning man was not able to recognize at first.  A whispered echo reverberated through the water suddenly, shattering Draco's racing thoughts._  

 

 _"All your fault..."_  

 

 _"Disappointing wretch of a son..."_  

 

 _"… end up like that miserable squib Scorpius..."_  

 

 _It was Draco's father saying these things.  Of course, he said them on a daily basis, but the disgust in his tone and the sharp language used reminded the Slytherin of a rattlesnake's warning.  Blinking in the inky depths, Draco felt himself sink deeper.  The figure was still above, but dimmer now.  Clawing up, he silently begged his arms to work as fast as he told them to.  They were agonizingly slow, and finally Draco opened his mouth to scream._  

 

 _"Useless boy unworthy of the Malfoy name..."_  

 

 _"Can't even win a match against Potter..."_  

 

 _"… complete failure"_  

 

 _The only sensation was icy liquid filling his mouth and choking his terrified scream that was more like a slow release of his remaining breath.  His abused lungs spasmed again, inhaling whatever they could.  His brain's instinct to breathe overrode his own desire to keep the water out, and although the liquid was numbingly cold, he felt like his lungs were on fire as they were filled with it.  Struggling less now, Draco stared up at the foggy silhouette of a man lording over the sea of black.  Calmly, he sank further, untroubled by the fact he no longer felt his arms or legs._  

 

 _"I can smell defeat on you.  Just give up."_  

 

 _Draco closed his eyes and was swallowed.  There was no point fighting anymore._  

 

 _…._  

 

He woke up gasping for air and clutching for his throat.  For a second, the room was as dark as that... that  _place_.  Draco took a minute to catch his breath and fully understand where he was.  Not his mansion or a sea of ink, but back for an 8 th year at Hogwarts.  His roommates slumbered peacefully as Draco grabbed a cloak and quickly stood up.  Crystals along the walls emitted a dim emerald-green glow, and the stones underfoot were soft with spongy green mosses.  As Draco walked, he tried to remember the dream that had him so worked up.  He smirked a little, thinking of his fear of owls as a child.  His father always used to call him a coward at that... Lucius Malfoy...  Draco frowned as he dwelled on his family life.  They had always supported Voldemort, and look where it got them.  Draco shuddered as he recalled his year serving the Dark Lord.  His family never knew if one glance meant they would get killed next.   

 

He needed to walk.  Or better yet, scream really loud.  Or drink some gin.  But to do any of that, he would need to walk to the Room of Requirement. 

 

Pulling the cloak around his green silk pajamas, he took out his wand and opened the door of the Slytherin Common Room.  He was so busy fiddling with his button that he didn't notice the figure at the foot of the door until Draco fell over it.  Hitting the ground hard on the chin, rage filled every fiber of Malfoy's body.  Studying the figure, Draco found it was a student wrapped up in some sort of blanket.  He couldn't tell who it was, but that would soon be remedied. 

 

"OOOF!  Bloody hell?  What are you, a blasted first year who couldn't get in?" 

 

The figure shifted in a blanket, but was otherwise silent.   

 

 _"_ I will  _NOT_  be ignored by the likes of you!  Give me one good reason not to hex you so hard that your grandchildren will have spiders crawling from all their holes!" 

 

A small groan  and then silence from the squirming blanket. 

 

Draco snorted, kneeled down, and put his face inches from the source of the groan.  He peeled the blanket away in a swift motion of the grumpy sleep-deprived sort, and found himself leering straight into a pair of round glasses framing  _those damned beautiful green eyes._  

 

He was quite surprised, but he could not afford to get lost in those soft features under a messy head of black unkempt hair...  And why was he here this morning?  Instead of being clear with intelligence glowing brightly from within, Harry Potter's eyes were red and tired.  Black bags sagged underneath, mirroring Draco's own.  Both teens appeared pale and very confused at this turn of events. 

 

"Malfoy?  What are you doing here?"  Potter muttered, seemingly annoyed that Draco kicked him while he slept.  What else was in his tone?  Fear?  Uneasiness?  After playing cat-and-mouse for nearly seven years, Draco couldn't blame him for his suspicions.   

 

"What..."  Draco cleared his throat so Potter wouldn't hear it crack, and continued, "What are YOU doing sleeping in front of the Slytherin Common Room, you git?  I could've cracked my neck!" 

 

The young man narrowed his eyes, sharp wit replacing grogginess.  

 

"I wasn't sleeping!  I was walking." 

 

"I can see that.  Obviously everyone walks while face down on the floor!" 

 

Suddenly, the absurdity of the situation causes Harry to first crack a grin- oh gods that smile could start wars- and then Draco burst into laughter.  It was loud, and in the early morning it echoed through the empty castle. 

 

"Hey, Malfoy.  Do you mind lending me a hand?  I can't get up in this position." 

 

Draco realized that he was still leaning over Potter, only a foot away from his face.  Quickly he sat up stammering, and held out a hand to guide his ex-arch-nemesis into a sitting position.  Potter had the blanket wrapped around him so tightly, it looked quite snug.  Draco made a mental note to do that tomorrow night.  He might get some sleep. 

 

"So why are you out here, Malfoy?"  Potter asked, studying the other student. 

 

"Er... I couldn’t sleep, so I felt like going to the room of requirement to drink- I mean scream." 

 

"Interesting" 

 

"Yeah.  If I have enough time, it is a nice place to spend the night." 

 

"Huh, I usually wander the halls, but I haven't seen you yet.  I will check there the next time I can't sleep.  Perhaps you can make me a drink even!" 

 

Harry seemed excited at the news he now had an insomnia buddy.  Draco opened his mouth to say no, he may not accompany him during raw moments of sob fests and drinking binges, but before he could get it out, he hesitated.  Those godsdamn green eyes were fixing him with a hope-filled excited plea.   _Fuck it, who cares if you sob into Harry Potter's shoulder and scare him away for good?  He will never like you anyway.  Probably here for pity._  

 

The bell on the tower rang five times.  Draco didn't realize how late it was getting.  Classes would start in a few hours, and all the jitters had boiled out of him with this strange meeting.  He could get a nap maybe. 

 

He brushed himself off, stood up, smiled stiffly to Potter, and answered. 

 

"Very well Potter, if you can find me, we might as well hang out together when we can't sleep." 

 

With that, he spun on his heel and practically ran back inside Slytherin House.  He didn't want Potter to see him blush. 


End file.
